


Judgment’s Beginning

by Darkrealmist



Series: The House of the Dead Poetry [11]
Category: The House of the Dead (Video Games)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Battle, Canon - Video Game, Character Study, Demons, Free Verse, Gen, Genetics, Gothic, Guns, Horror, Knights - Freeform, Libraries, Mutants, Poetry, Prose Poem, Rain, Science Fiction, Second Chances, Spies & Secret Agents, Survival Horror, Tarot, Wordcount: 100-1.000, Wordcount: 100-500, Wordcount: Under 10.000, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-07 13:44:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20818268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkrealmist/pseuds/Darkrealmist
Summary: A poem based on the mockery of Judgment, set during The House of the Dead 2.





	Judgment’s Beginning

Judgment’s Beginning

Author’s Note: Enjoy the poem and R&R.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to or of the House of the Dead series.

Summary:

A poem based on the mockery of Judgment, set during _The House of the Dead 2_.

* * *

A prelude. The car hydroplanes, missing the blood-bone imp, general of the headshot assailable.  
Underestimated enemy, with the spiked vambraces, assaulting G in the library.  
Bypass via the back garden. Civilians beg for their lives, yet seem unrealistically calm after their rescue.  
Dispensing bullet holes among Murrers, refuse crawlers, wall scalers, leapers off an old-world bridge.  
Psychologically absurd and a confidential loon. G’s bloodstains?  
The dumpster woman shows her heart, then donates it in cross-boxed gratitude.  
Smoke and brimstone preface a headless, bandaged suit of armour, whose goring axe clears the street.

Zeal’s advice had no effect. Suffers no dedition. His helium-laced laugh waiting sanguinary in the wings.  
Kuarl bellows without the mouth to utter it. Judge, jury, and executioner, poised to bang discord’s gavel.  
Crowley knights serving their modern sponsor, Sir Gold. Intelligence zipping around a brutish decapitee.  
Straight into James and Gary’s sights. Straight into active fire.

The multi-layered screech of shrunken solo incompetency…peters out an unrefined squeak.  
That would send man careening at his sunset, the rendezvous of his fatal, fatalistic fate.  
Amy and Harry arrive late, god’s thankful reinforcements. Zeal’s haired skull, flat on the road.  
“Prevent the confusion,” Harry says.  
These people hadn’t a clue. No such thing. This was only the beginning.  
The evil has come once again.  
In this, the year 2000.

They were twenty-eight, born once, but given a second chance.

We cannot pity you, for our pain is exclusive. What is it to share our pain, but to bring hell to this city?

So premonitory, the delinquent rain.


End file.
